If You Want To
by MirellaArabesque
Summary: Don't you wanna know, don't you wanna be, someone who takes a chance on a fool like me? They've had another fight, and they're sick of waiting for the phone to ring. Songfic. Mojo. K


**A/N: This is a songfic to Melissa Etheridge's "If You Want To" inspired by personal experience. I would love lots of reviews on this cause right now I'm the one waiting by the phone and it sucks majorly. So I need some reader love :(**

"Look Pookie, if you don't love me for who I am then maybe I should just pack up and leave!"

"Be my guest!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

As the words that seemed to have been shouted so many times echoed around the house, Maureen stalked out of the kitchen. She didn't let the angry tears fall until she was in the bedroom, not even looking at the clothes she yanked out of the closet and threw into her overnight bag. In minutes she was outside, in the street. She thought she saw Joanne's face framed in a window out of the corner of her eye, but she didn't let herself look back.

She really thought this would be the last time.

_Hello  
__Yes that's what I said,  
__I guess I thought that I was dead|  
__So I just called you from my bed  
__To say 'Hello'  
__See I got this funny notion  
__Life is only just an ocean  
__I've been drowning in emotion  
__Now I'm swimming back to shore  
__And I'd like to talk to you!_

A week passed, and Maureen was proud of herself for being strong. Did she think about Joanne? Constantly. Did she call her? Not once.

Joanne, at first glad for the peace and quiet, found herself waking cold in the middle of the night, or looking up from her newspaper to comment on something to Maureen only to remember that she wasn't there. She refused to be the first to call, though. She was an independent woman and she could do perfectly fine on her own. She didn't need Maureen, she repeated to herself over and over.

_If you want to  
__You can call, I'll be around  
__If you want to  
__You can write this number down  
__If you want to_

_If you want to  
__Leave a message at the tone  
__If you want to  
__You can call me here at home  
__If you want to_

_I'll be alone._

It was, predictably, Maureen who broke the silence first. She was a chicken, though, and instead of talking to Joanne directly she called the house phone while she knew the lawyer would be at work. Tears welled up in her eyes when she heard that Joanne hadn't changed the answering machine recording. Joanne's voice spoke first.

"Hello, you've reached Joanne Jefferson and Maureen Johnson. We can't answer the phone right now, but please leave your name and number and we'll call you back soon. Thanks, bye!" Maureen's voice came through faintly from the background—"Pookie, what are you doing?" And then the tone sounded.

"Hi, Po—Joanne. It's me. Maureen. Listen, I'm just calling to say I kind of wanted to talk to you. I know you're mad. But call me back. Bye."

_So now I've called  
__Yes it's been a couple days  
__Okay, seven, this I know  
__But I've been moving kinda slow  
__And so I called  
__Oh, it must be so appalling  
__If you think that I've been stalling-  
__This is me, now I am calling  
__And I'm better than before  
__And I'd like to talk to you!_

Joanne collapsed on the couch, throwing her briefcase on the ground, kicking off her high heels and massaging her feet tiredly. Work had been total hell, and she had no Maureen to come home to. She checked her cell phone for the twenty-sixth time that day (she had counted very carefully) to see if Maureen had called, then sighed and flopped back on the sofa with a sigh. She hadn't.

As Joanne moped silently, she cast her eyes around the room and they fell on the house phone. A red light blinked at her, and she threw herself off of the couch and across the room, praying in her head.

"You have three new voice messages. First voice message:

'Hi, honey, it's Dad. Your mother and I wanted—'"

Joanne skipped it, moving on to the second.

'Ms. Jefferson, this is Elise Bixbey returning your call. My number—'"

Skipped again. One more chance—

"Hi, Po—Joanne. It's me, Maureen. Listen…"

_If you want to  
__You can call, I'll be around  
__If you want to  
__You can write this number down  
__If you want to_

_If you want to  
__Leave a message at the tone  
__If you want to  
__You can call me here at home  
__If you want to_

_I'll be alone._

The relief Joanne had felt at hearing Maureen's voice was total, all-encompassing, and full of happy warmth. But the diva hadn't bothered to apologize, and if she just 'kind of' wanted to talk, then she could wait.

_Don't you wanna know,  
__Don't you wanna be,  
__Someone who takes a chance  
__On a fool like me?_

That night Maureen sat by her phone from six, the time she knew Joanne should be getting home, until well after midnight. She tried to read, listen to music, and watch TV until she concluded that she was completely unable to concentrate, so she just sat there. It seemed the only time she could ever sit still was when she was waiting for Joanne.

The lawyer listened to the voicemail more times than she would like to admit, then ate chocolate for dinner, crawled into bed, and cried herself to sleep.

_Staring out the door,  
__Staring down the hall,  
__Waiting my whole life  
__Just for you to call_

Three more days and Maureen couldn't take it anymore. She had barely left the cheap motel room she'd been staying in. Her appetite was next to nothing except in the early hours of the evening, when she would go into crying fits and eat ice cream by the pint. When Mark called her cell phone to ask if she was okay, she was so disappointed that it wasn't Joanne that she went off on him completely, screaming so loudly into the phone that some of the other guests complained.

On the tenth day at 11:58 PM, she called again. Ten days since she'd left Joanne's house or heard a word from her (she-hoped-not-ex) lover. She was going through Joanne-withdrawl, and it was intense and painful. She had to call.

_Hello  
__Yes, that's what I said  
__I am breathing, I'm not dead  
__I'm waiting here, now in my bed  
__And I'd like to talk to you!_

Four rings. Then:

"Hello?"

"Jo?"

"Maureen?"

"Yeah. Don't hang up!"

"What do you want?" Joanne sighed. Maureen could hear the annoyance and assumed that she had shouted her plea just as the lawyer was about to slam down the phone.

"I want to apologize. I want to talk. I want you back."

"And why should I let you have what you want?"

"Because I'm really, really sorry and I want to make us work. And because you love me?"

"Honeybear," groaned the lawyer, "of course I love you. But that doesn't mean this is going to work out."

"Why not?" pouted Maureen. "I'll try harder!"

"What will you do?" Joanne was testing her now.

"I'll stop flirting with other girls 'cause I know I already have the most amazing one in the word. I'll listen to you because I know now there's a reason you tell me things. I'll think of you instead of myself because—because I'll never deserve you and you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

The drama queen was crying, but with such sincerity that Joanne knew it wasn't an act. "Baby…" she soothed. "Baby, don't cry. I love you, whether we deserve each other or not. That isn't the point. The point is… I don't know what it is!" She wiped away a few tears, but they were half of sadness and half of laughter and happiness.

"So…" Maureen said hopefully when they were done giggling.

"So… will you come back?"

Giggling and squealing, she flew up and began bouncing on the bed. "Yay!" she exclaimed. "I'll be there bright and early tomorrow morning!"

"Um… honeybear?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you come back right now?"

_If you want to  
__You can call, I'll be around  
__If you want to  
__You can write this number down  
__If you want to_

_If you want to  
__Let your fingers do the walk  
__If you want to  
__I got hours, I can talk  
__If you want to  
__If you want to_

_If you want to  
__Leave a message at the tone  
__If you want to  
__You can call me here at home  
__If you want to_

_I'll be alone._

* * *


End file.
